


Hearsay

by JyaneXx



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Character Development, Childhood Trauma, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More tags to be added, Nonexistent Timeline, character fucking development is ESSENTIAL, cuz what else better describes them ya know?, etc etc - Freeform, seriously, they BOTH have issues you get it, they kinda fucked it up on the show for Ian AND Mickey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:07:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JyaneXx/pseuds/JyaneXx
Summary: Hey all!I recently binged 7 seasons of Shameless in about 4 weeks, and while Ian and Mickey have constantly left me in heartburn and tears (in a tremendously good way), I couldn't help but feel their individuality and their relationship got somewhat watered down as the show went on. The second I finished season 7 (aka hell), I immediately wanted to write something for them that would do them and their character development justice.I'm going to alternate between Ian's and Mickey's POV, but besides that I don't have much info. I don't know how many chapters there will be. I also don't have a clue where this is going. But I know I want to give them more than the show did.And of course, thank you for reading!P.S. If you want to get an overall vibe of this piece, listen to Look How Far We've Come by Dylan LeBlanc. It is a soundtrack for one of the episodes and I think both the lyrics the melody perfectly encapsulate the feel I'm trying to portray.





	Hearsay

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all!  
> I recently binged 7 seasons of Shameless in about 4 weeks, and while Ian and Mickey have constantly left me in heartburn and tears (in a tremendously good way), I couldn't help but feel their individuality and their relationship got somewhat watered down as the show went on. The second I finished season 7 (aka hell), I immediately wanted to write something for them that would do them and their character development justice.  
> I'm going to alternate between Ian's and Mickey's POV, but besides that I don't have much info. I don't know how many chapters there will be. I also don't have a clue where this is going. But I know I want to give them more than the show did.  
> And of course, thank you for reading!  
> P.S. If you want to get an overall vibe of this piece, listen to Look How Far We've Come by Dylan LeBlanc. It is a soundtrack for one of the episodes and I think both the lyrics the melody perfectly encapsulate the feel I'm trying to portray.

        Because it was cold and because his feet were starting to feel clammy in his shoes, he lit a cigarette to distract himself from the unpleasant sensations. The inside of the truck formed a malicious vacuum that he could swear was trying to suck out his insides. They all felt kind of scrambled anyway—spleen where the liver was, lungs where the heart should be. He tried to put the cigarette to his mouth. Someone must have replaced the muscles in his limbs with heavy chunks of lead.

        Where to? He didn't know but his body did, hands guiding the wheel as if they had a mind of their own. The narrow lanes stretched on and on until they intersected at a vanishing point off in the distance, where daylight was slowly sinking into the horizon. Pine trees raced past his car, disappearing into the shadow behind him that he couldn’t outrun. Nothing offered consolation.

  
        …

  
        He was shoved back into consciousness by a jolt of pain. A small piece of ash, still aflame, had broken off from his cigarette and landed on his bare skin through his too-ripped jeans. A rough curse escaped from his mouth, followed by a stream of fluid that burned his throat on its way out. The car came to a grinding stop. The door flung open barely in time for the stomach acid to be splattered onto the asphalt.

  
        Motherfucker. He spat on the ground in an effort to get rid of the unholy taste in his mouth, but to no avail. When things finally stopped coming out, he pushed himself back into the car, the movement taking up all the strength he had left, and laid half-paralyzed in the seat, his eyelids fluttering to keep open before finally giving into exhaustion.

  
        If he were awake, he would’ve been able to look up and see that the full moon was in the center of the sky, and be reminded of the times of pink lips against blue lips, cold hands holding bloody fists; he would hear a voice telling him to fuck off and then panting next to his ear; he would see those saturated blue eyes staring into his, somewhat animal-like—sinfully pure yet will flee for its life any second if rattled…

  
        He slipped deeper into the darkness…


End file.
